They strolled towards the line of hummers parked up by the curb. Eric pushed his hands further into his pockets as Calleigh sighed deeply beside him.
"You gonna be ok now?" He asked quietly, staring into her eyes.
"Yeah, I just want to go home." She replied tiredly.
"On your own?" He was surprised. If he had just been held hostage and almost shot, he would want company. And a drink.
"I'll be fine." She smiled reassuringly, turning to get into her car. Suddenly, he realised what he wanted to say.
"Well I won't." She stopped and spun round to face him. He stared deeply into her eyes. "I don't know what I'd have done if you'd been hurt." She looked at him for a moment, before smiling slightly.
"Ok." She accepted his offer and pulled herself into his hummer.

They sat quietly as Eric drove them along the highway. Calleigh flicked the radio on and Dolly Parton filled the air. Eric looked at her as though she was insane.
"Country and western." She grinned. He looked thoughtful.
"But it's not true though, is it?"
"Well, it's the only genre that-"
"No, not that. Working nine to five, just a way to make a living. It's not true for us. We do this job day in day out, sometimes it doesn't pay off – sometimes we can't get the guy and you just feel worse because he won. But we still do it. Because we know we're making a difference, helping get scumbags off the street." Calleigh thought about what he had said. She almost died that day, yet she would still go into work on Monday and risk her life all over again. Because it was something she loved doing.

Too quickly, they were outside Calleigh's block of apartments.
"Well, there you go." Eric sat back.
"Do you want to come in for a drink? I know I could do with one and I never did like drinking on my own." She smiled slightly.
"Sure." He tried to mask his happiness as he unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped out. They headed for the fourth floor in silence, both afraid that if they spoke, they would say something they would regret. Or worse, the other would regret.
"Bourbon or malt?" Calleigh called from the kitchen.
"Whichever's strongest." He shouted back wearily. I'm gonna be in no fit state to drive but who gives a damn? She came back through holding two glasses containing a generous measure of single malt whisky. Eric took a sip hesitantly, savouring the way it burned the back of his throat. He glanced over at Calleigh, admiring the way her blonde hair shone in the light and the way she still managed to fix a smile on her face after the day she had gone through.

"Want to talk?" He offered. Calleigh nodded gratefully. She sank onto the couch that Eric was sat on, and tried to stop the tears that rolled down her face.
"I thought he was going to kill me. He was going to..." She broke off, unable to speak. Eric gritted his teeth, stopping himself from racing down to the police department and beating that sonofabitch to a pulp. "But I told him I would rather die than have him touch me, then he was going to kill..." She started sobbing again.
"Ssh. You're safe now. And I swear on Marisol's grave that I will not let anything like this ever happen to you again." He soothed her. It was a promise he wouldn't break.

After a while, Calleigh seemed to return to normal. Eric was glad; it scared him to see her like that – she was always so strong. But she could depend on him to be there for her, to fight her demons with her and to be there to catch her when she fell. He watched her as she wiped her eyes on the back of her hand. Brushing his fingers against her cheek, he kissed her lightly on the lips. She glanced up at him, before responding. After all, sometimes it takes a bad event for a good thing to happen Eric thought happily.